The Witness, Grace Livingston Hill Lutz [the little red hen ebook .TXT] 📗

"You Don't Suppose,  Seth," She Appealed--She Always Called Him Seth In

Times Of Crisis--"You Don't Suppose That Perhaps She Mightn't _Want_ To

Come,  After All!"

 

"Well,  I Was Thinking,  Rachel," He Said,  Tenderly,  "We'd Best Not Be

Getting Too Set On It. But,  Anyhow,  We'd Be Ready For Some One Else. You

Know Stevie Always Wanted You To Have Things Fixed Nice And Fancy. But

You Fix It Up. I Guess She's Coming. I Really Do Think She Must Be

Coming! We'll Just Pray About It And Then We'll Leave It There!"

 

And So With Peace In Their Faces They Arrived At Home,  Just Five Minutes

Before The Painter Was Due,  And Unloaded Their Packages. Father Lifted

Out The Big Roll Of Soft,  Velvety Carpeting,  Gray As A Cloud,  With Moss

Roses Scattered Over It. He Was Proud To Think He Could Buy Things Like

This For Mother. Of Course Now They Had No Need To Save And Scrimp For

Stephen The Way They Had Done During The Years; So It Was Well To Make

The Rest Of The Way As Bright For Mother As He Could. And This "Bonnie"

Girl! If She Would Only Come,  What A Bright,  Happy Thing It Would Be In

Their Desolated Home!

 

But Suppose She Shouldn't Come?

Chapter 12 Pg 64

 

The Telegram Reached Courtland Friday Evening,  Just As He Was Going To

The Dare Dinner,  And Filled Him With An Almost Childish Delight. Not For

A Long Time Had He Had Anything As Nice As That Happen; Not Even When He

Made Phi Beta Kappa In His Junior Year Had He Been So Filled With

Exultation. It Was Like Having A Fairy-Tale Come True. To Think There

Had Really Been A Woman In The World Who Would Respond In That Cordial

Way To A Call From The Great Unknown!

 

He Presented Himself In His Most Sparkling Mood At The House Where He

Was To Dine. There Was Nothing At All Blue About Him. His Eyes Fairly

Danced With Pleasure And His Smile Was Rare. Gila Looked And Drooped Her

Eyes Demurely. She Thought The Sparkle Was All For Her,  And Her Little

Wicked Heart Gave A Throb Of Exultant Joy.

 

Mrs. Dare Was No Longer A Large,  Purple Person. She Was In Full Evening

Dress,  Explaining That She And Her Husband Had An Engagement At The

Opera After Dinner. She Resembled The Fat Dough People That The Cook

Used To Fashion For Him In His Youth. Her Pudgy Arms So Reminded Him Of

Chapter 12 Pg 65

Those Shapeless Cooky Arms That He Found Himself Fascinated By The

Thought As He Watched Her Moving Her Bejeweled Hands Among The Trinkets

At Her End Of The Glittering Table. Her Gown,  What There Was Of It,  Was

Of Black Gauze Emblazoned With Dartling Sequins Of Deep Blue. An Aigret

In Her Hair Twinkled Knowingly Above Her Coarse,  Painted Face.

Courtland,  As He Studied Her More Closely,  Rejoiced That The Telegram

Had Arrived Before He Left The Dormitory,  For He Never Could Have Had

The Courage To Come To This Plump-Shouldered Lady Seeking Refuge For His

Refined Little Bonnie Girl.

 

The Father Of The Family Was A Little Wisp Of A Man With A Nervous Laugh

And A High,  Thin Voice. There Were Kind Lines Around His Mouth And Eyes,

Indulgent Lines--Not Self-Indulgent,  Either,  And Insomuch They Were

Noble--But There Was A Weakness About The Face That Showed He Was Ruled

By Others To A Large Extent. He Said,  "Yes,  My Dear!" Quite Obediently

When His Wife Ordered Him Affably Around. There Was A Cunning Look In

His Eye That Might Explain The General Impression Current That He Knew

How To Turn A Dollar To His Own Account.

 

It Occurred To Courtland To Wonder What Would Happen If He Should

Suddenly Ask Mr. Dare What He Thought Of Christ,  Or If He Believed In

The Resurrection. He Could Quite Imagine They Would Look Aghast As If He

Had Spoken Of Something Impolite. One Couldn't Think Of Mrs. Dare In A

Resurrection,  She Would Seem So Out Of Place,  So Sort Of Unclothed For

The Occasion,  In Those Fat,  Doughy Arms With Her Glittering Jet

Shoulder-Straps. He Realized That All These Thoughts That Raced Through

His Head Were But Fantasies Occasioned No Doubt By His Own Highly

Wrought Nervous Condition,  But They Kept Crowding In And Bringing The

Mirth To His Eyes. How,  For Instance,  Would Mother Marshall And Mother

Dare Hit It Off If They Should Happen Together In The Same Heaven?

 

Gila Was All In White,  From The Tip Of Her Pearly Shoulders Down To The

Tip Of Her Pearl-Beaded Slippers--White And Demure. Her Skin Looked Even

More Pearly Than When She Wore The Brilliant Red-Velvet Gown. It Had A

Pure,  Dazzling Whiteness,  Different From Most Skins. It Perplexed Him.

It Did Not Look Like Flesh,  But More Like Some Ethereal Substance Meant

For Angels. He Drew A Breath Of Satisfaction That There Was Not Even A

Flush Upon It To-Night. No Painting There At Least! He Was Not Master Of

The Rare Arts That Skins Are Subject To In These Days. He Knew

Artificial Whiteness Only When It Was Glaring And Floury. This Pearly

Paleness Was Exquisite,  Delicious; And In Contrast The Great Dark Eyes,

Lifted Pansy-Like For An Instant And Then Down-Drooped Beneath Those

Wonderful,  Long Curling Lashes,  Were Almost Startling In Their Beauty.

The Hair Was Simply Arranged With A Plain Narrow Band Of Black Velvet

Around The White Temples,  And The Soft Loops Of Cloudy Darkness Drawn

Out On Her Cheeks In Her Own Fantastic Way. There Was An Attempt At

Demureness In The Gown; Soft Folds Of Pure Transparent Nothing Seemed To

Shelter What They Could Not Hide,  And More Such Folds Drooped Over The

Lovely Arms To The Elbows. Surely,  Surely,  This Was Loveliness

Undefiled. The Words Of Peer Gynt Came Floating Back Disconnectedly,

More As A Puzzled Question In His Mind Than As They Stand In The Story:

 

     "Is Your Psalm-Book In Your 'Kerchief?

       Do You Glance Adown Your Apron?

         Do You Hold Your Mother's Skirt-Fold?

           Speak!"

 

But He Only Looked At Her Admiringly,  And Talked On About The College

Games,  Making Himself Agreeable To Every One,  And Winning More And More

The Lifted Pansy-Eyes.

 

When Dinner Was Over They Drifted Informally Into A Large

White-And-Gold Reception-Room,  With Inhospitable Chairs And Settees

Whose Satin Slipperiness Offered No Inducements To Sit Down. There Were

Gold-Lacquered Tables And A Curious Concert-Grand Piano,  Also Gold

Inlaid With Mother-Of-Pearl Cupids And Flowers. Everything Was Most

Elaborate. Gila,  In Her Soft Transparencies,  Looked Like A Wraith Amid

It All. The Young Man Chose To Think She Was Too Rare And Fine For A

Place So Ornate.

 

Presently The Fat Cooky Arms Of The Mother Were Enfolded In A Gorgeous

Blue-Plush Evening Cloak Beloaded With Handsome Black Fur; And With Many

Bows And Kindly Words The Little Husband Toddled Off Beside Her,

Reminding Courtland Of A Big Cinnamon Bear And A Little Black-And-Tan

Dog He Had Once Seen Together In A Show.

 

Gila Stood Bewitchingly Childish In The Great Gold Room,  And Shyly Asked

If He Would Like To Go To The Library,  Where It Was Cozier. The Red

Light Glowed Across The Hall,  And He Turned From It With A Shudder Of

Remembrance. The Glow Seemed To Beat Upon His Nerves Like Something

Striking His Eyeballs.

 

"I'd Like To Hear You Play,  If You Will," He Answered,  Wondering In His

Heart If,  After All,  A Dolled-Up Instrument Like That Was Really Meant

To Be Played Upon.

 

Gila Pouted. She Did Not Want To Play,  But She Would Not Seem To Refuse

The Challenge. She Went To The Piano And Rippled Off A Brilliant Waltz

Or Two,  Just To Show Him She Could Do It,  Played Humoresque,  And A Few

Little Catchy Melodies That Were In The Popular Ear Just Then,  And Then,

Whirling On The Gilded Stool,  She Lifted Her Big Eyes To Him:

 

"I Don't Like It In Here," She Said,  With A Little Shiver,  As A Child

Might Do; "Let's Go Into The Library By The Fire. It's Pleasanter There

To Talk."

 

Courtland Hesitated. "Look Here," Said He,  Frankly,  "Wouldn't You Just

As Soon Sit Somewhere Else? I Don't Like That Red Light Of Yours. It

Gets On My Nerves. I Don't Like To See You In It. It Makes You

Look--Well--Something Different From What I Believe You Really Are. I

Like A Plain,  Honest White Light."

 

Gila Gave Him One Swift,  Wondering Glance And Walked Laughingly Over

    8. Education In Native Language; Native Languages Everywhere To

    Have Equal Rights With Official Language.

 

    9. Every Nationality In The State To Have The Right Of

    Self-Definition.

Chapter 12 Pg 66

 

    10. The Right Of All Persons To Prosecute Officials Before A Jury.

 

    11. Election Of Magistrates.

 

    12. A Citizen Army Instead Of Ordinary Troops.

 

    13. Separation Of Church From State And School From Church.

 

    14. Free Compulsory Education For Both Sexes To The Age Of

    Sixteen.

 

    15. State Feeding Of Poor Children.

 

    16. Confiscation Of Church Property,  Also That Of The Royal

    Family.

 

    17. Progressive Income Tax.

 

    18. An Eight-Hour Day,  With Six Hours For All Under Eighteen.

 

    19. Prohibition Of Female Labor Where Such Is Harmful To Women.

 

    20. A Clear Holiday Once A Week To Consist Of Forty-Two Hours On

    End.

 

It Would Be A Mistake To Suppose That This Very Moderate Program Embraced

All That The Majority Of The Social Democratic Party Aimed At. It Was Not

Intended To Be More Than An Ameliorative Program For Immediate Adoption By

The Constituent Assembly,  For The Convocation Of Which The Social Democrats

Were Most Eager,  And Which They Confidently Believed Would Have A Majority

Of Socialists Of Different Factions.

 

In A Brilliant And Caustic Criticism Of Conditions As They Existed In The

Pre-Bolshevist Period,  Trotzky Denounced What He Called "The Farce Of Dual

Authority." In A Characteristically Clever And Biting Phrase,  He Described

It As "The Epoch Of Dual Impotence,  The Government Not Able,  And The Soviet

Not Daring," And Predicted Its Culmination In A "Crisis Of Unheard-Of

Severity."[5] There Was More Than A Little Truth In The Scornful Phrase. On

The One Hand,  There Was The Provisional Government,  To Which The Soviet Had

Given Its Consent And Its Allegiance,  Trying To Discharge The Functions Of

Government. On The Other Hand,  There Was The Soviet Itself,  Claiming The

Right To Control The Course Of The Provisional Government And Indulging In

Systematic Criticism Of The Latter's Actions. It Was